Last Guys
by eldritchhorrors
Summary: Pike wasn't the only guy recruiting; he was just complete crap at it. Good for others- not so hot for Starfleet. Meh...Screw Starfleet anyway. Eventual Kirk/Spock, Kirk/Bones, Kirk/Spock/Bones


**Last Guys**

Spock sat in a lone apse as his father approached, exerting his will so that he would not fidget or wipe at the blood accumulating upon his lip. Sarek was disappointed in him. It bled into his skin like osmosis, a familiar strand of empathy curling against him, unusually harsh, even though his father's face remained impassive.

When he sat and looked at Spock, Spock already knew how he felt. He always had. "They called you a traitor."

There was a small flutter, almost a flinch, but the face that looked at him was still implacable. The voice, while emphatic, was soothing in its cadence. "Emotions run deep within our race. In many ways more deeply than in humans."

Yes. He had observed this, though he told no one.

"Logic offers serenity that humans rarely experience. Control of feelings so that they do not control you."

Spock processed his father's tangential recommendation thoroughly, weighing and examining. "You suggest that I should be completely Vulcan." How odd. "And yet you married a human."

There was an even larger spike this time. "As ambassador to Earth it is my duty to observe and understand human behavior. Marrying your mother was…logical."

"Yes. Father."

It was the first time Sarek of Vulcan had lied to him, which he found disturbing on many levels. The Vulcan tenant against untruths was deeply ingrained- illogical. Yet here was the Ambassador to Earth, his father, lying about something as simple as the Terran emotion of love.

It was the first time Sarek had lied to him, but in years to come it would not be the last.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jim Kirk was sprawled in a dirty shell of a chair, head thrown back to accommodate a sluggish bloody nose and the chip on his shoulder.

Pike was impressed with the kid, but he didn't let on. There was a thick file detailing Kirk's entire career, both as genius wunderkind and antisocial delinquent. Winona had fucked up in some ways, but Chris couldn't deny that he liked the idea of molding the raw material. "Tell me, Kirk—d'you _like_ being the only genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest?"

The younger man's response was mocking. "Maybe I love it."

Pike shook his head. Some people did love it, but Kirk wasn't the sociopath he wanted people to think. "Don't you feel like you might be meant for something better. That maybe you're supposed to do something _special_?"

There was that antiestablishment sneer again. As if Starfleet had deliberately killed his father and fucked up his childhood.

If Kirk was moved at all, he was doing his damnedest to hide it.

"Enlist in Starfleet."

Kirk was too surprised to laugh, but his eyes widened. "Enlist in—You must be _way_ down on your recruiting quota for the month."

But Kirk was still there, ordering a drink, hadn't bailed on him, so Pike liked to think that he had piqued the Kid's curiosity. Maybe a carrot was necessary. "You could be an officer in four years. Have your own ship in eight." He left a lot unsaid, but it was all laid out between them anyway. It'd beat the auto shop you currently work in. You don't have anybody holding you here. It's a new place where the law doesn't have your bruised face memorized and you're not the usual suspect when some computer fraud goes down.

Pike thought he was getting to him, getting under his skin, but the Kid started to twitch.

"We done?"

Pike nodded reluctantly. He might have to let this bird fly to see if it would come back to him. "We're done." Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood, but he didn't give up. One more card to play. A trump card.

"We're at the Riverside shipyard inspecting construction of a new vessel. Shuttle for new recruits leaves tomorrow oh-six hundred." He hesitated, then locked eyes one last time with the younger man standing across from him. "Your father was the captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's and yours. I _dare_ you to do better."

He was about to turn, leave the Kid to stew on it, take the dare, when they were interrupted by a slow sarcastic clapping.

Kirk's furrowed brow cleared and he stared over Chris' shoulder, looking bemused as the clapping got closer. A familiar voice sounded behind him.

"A truly heartwarming sentiment Captain Pike. You've managed to achieve the optimum amount of pathos to elicit an emotional response, despite how," the voice paused here, for effect and not word selection. "Heavy-handed, your application of nostalgia was."

The clapping stopped and Pike's mouth drew up in the corner, but it was in no way a smile. This was exactly what he didn't need, but the voice didn't go away just because he wanted it banished to a pit in the ground.

"I'm sure that is much more discerning in his tastes." It was at his ear now.

"Cadet Spock."

"You know as well as I that it is now Mr. Spock."

Pike turned, taking in the lean body behind him. Spock hadn't changed much. Unsurprising for his race, considering his longevity, but it still jarred him. He was expecting-

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't the same impassive, architectural face, or charcoal turtleneck with black trousers. He couldn't recall Spock in anything but Cadet reds or his formal Vulcan robe. There was a rustle from Kirk, and he could feel the renewed interest spark there. "Poaching, Spock?" There was censure in his voice.

"Illegally hunting that which does not belong to me? Is Starfleet claiming Mr. Kirk already?"

"Hey. Mr. Kirk claims Mr. Kirk." Jim's voice wasn't quite belligerent, but it was a near thing.

Spock looked up from Pike, locking eyes with Kirk's and quirking a brow. "Indubitably." He pulled out a chair and sat, never breaking eye contact. "Though some might assume otherwise, given the way that Captain Pike has been tracking you like big game, for," Spock tilted his head in query, "was that three or four days, Christopher?"

"Shit." This just went south. All that fucking work. Biding his time. Watching that little shit just waiting for his moment and-

"Days?" Kirk looked blindsided, blinking away the alcohol. "Fucking days?"

"At least three. Perhaps more."

Yes. Deep south.

Spock's voice was too serene, and Pike was tempted to throttle it into hoarseness. "What about you? Were you following Kirk?"

Amusement. The pale green fucker was amused. He could see it in the way his mouth sloped, the slight flare of a nostril. "No need. I did wish to speak to Mr. Kirk, but I had no wish to resort to such tactics."

"Wait. You wanted to speak to me too?" Kirk's face was still shock slack, and Pike could see him processing the information, crunching numbers that wouldn't add up to anything on the positive side.

"Yes." Spock was earnest, now. Speaking only to Kirk. "As I was saying, I had no need to follow you, or inveigle you with emotional blackmail. I followed Captain Pike and waited for him to, to use a colloquialism, put his foot in it."

Kirk was warming up to him. "Yeah. Yeah, I got that." The suddenly harsh look he tossed at Pike put a nail in it.

"I chose to insert myself into the conversation when the timing was most fortuitous. I believe I was correct in my assessment."

Kirk drew his seat forward, eyes sparkling, beer pulled close, and Pike knew he had lost.

"Motherfuck."

"Thank you, Christopher. You have truly enlightened us with the strength and brevity of your wit."

"Goddamn it. Kirk. He'll use you and spit you out. That's his game." He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out of his mouth.

"Like Starfleet used my dad, you think? There's used, and then there's _used_."

Pike ran a hand through his hair and spun on his heel, all pretense of venerable, compassionate Captain put aside. He stalked off. "This isn't over Spock." He consoled himself with the fact that at least one alpha prospect was already in his grasp, even if he had lost the prize. "Vicious kneebiter. Santa's little psychopath."

Now he just had to figure out what to tell Komack.

Spock spared him one contemptuous glance as he walked away.

Kirk was regaining his equilibrium and his smile as Spock faced him again.

"Spock? Can I call you Spock?"

"Yes. I hope that our future acquaintance warrants such familiarity."

"Now, that was awesome and everything, don't get me wrong. But when you said that this meeting was the most fortuitous time- wouldn't it have been more fortuitous to talk to me _after_ Pike had cleared out?"

"I'm afraid you are operating under a misapprehension, Mr. Kirk."

The admission just seemed to intrigue Kirk more. "Call me Jim."

"Jim. You believe that my only goal was to make your acquaintance. This is not so. I was operating under two constraints. The first, and most important, was meeting you."

"Weird, but hey. I'm rolling with it." Jim leaned closer, elbows on the table and face disconcertingly close. "And the other?"

"I confess, I dearly wanted to annoy Captain Pike." He allowed himself a small, fleeting smile.

Jim was laughing hard, and wincing from the effort. "Oh. Hell." He pushed back from the table, allowing his head to fall back in a wide grin, slitted eyes smiling at Spock. "Fucking classic. Remind me to never piss off a Vulcan."

"A commendable goal, Jim, though I am only half-Vulcan."

"No shit? Wow. That must suck."

Despite all of his research, his plethora of knowledge about 's penetrating intellect, Spock was still taken aback at the insight involved in that very astute assumption. There were no exclamations or variations of 'so lucky' or 'the best of both worlds'.

"But, I gotta know." This time Kirk raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of his own. "What did Pike do to piss you off?"

"I'm not sure that is relevant."

"Fftt. You want to make a pitch, I want to make sure I don't do whatever he did. Since apparently I'm so 'in demand' and all."

"There is no danger of that. I was a cadet at Starfleet."

"Yeah?"

"Captain Pike accused me of cheating on his test. The Kobayashi Maru."

Most people would have backed off, become uncomfortable, or become outraged on his behalf.

Most people were also semi-articulate Chimpanzees. No matter their species.

Not Jim Kirk. He had chosen well.

"Did you?"

"Not as such."

"As such. Playing with semantics now? The secret to Vulcan truth dodging?"

"If you like. I still firmly believe that I was not cheating. I was merely correcting a test that was already faulty in its parameters. Where I erred was miscalculating the premium Starfleet now puts on original thinking. It is abominably low."

Kirk's laugh was smaller this time, but warmer, as he ordered another drink.

"I'm a little in love with you right now, so this is probably the fortuitous time you've been wanting to jump on." Jim spread his hands. "Hit me with the hard sell, Spock. Christ. Are all half-Vulcans like you?"

"I would not know. I am the only Vulcan/Human hybrid in existence."

"Ha. Not shocked. You could probably take over the planet."

"And that," Spock said, intent, "is exactly what I wanted to speak to you about."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Leonard McCoy was sitting at the pockmarked bar in some dive shithole, Bumfuck, Iowa, knocking back drinks on shamefully slim credits because it was cheaper than getting a room for the night and he was too fucked up to find someone to spend the night with.

He had just finished the drink he'd been nursing when the bartender, who had previously been grudging, lined up two shots for him with something that approximated a smile.

"What's this?"

"Jaeger. Jaeger chaser."

"I didn't order it." And the bartender didn't seem like the generous spill-your-sob-story-free-drinks type.

"Nah. He did." The man put a hand over his clean shaven scalp as he nodded down the bar, where a slender man sat absurdly upright, looking expectant.

"Huh." McCoy grunted, but didn't balk as the man stood and approached him and the bartender made his get away. Instead, he took one of the shots and threw it back with only a small flinch as it burned its way down his esophagus and penetrated his sinuses.

"Lord knows I ain't lookin' pretty, and no one's ever accused me of lookin' easy, so why don't you just lay it on me, hmm?"

"Doctor McCoy?"

"Sure." He should be surprised, but somehow, he ain't; not with the way everything within his purview had gone stark staring crazy.

"I am a great admirer of yours."

"Bullshit."

"Duel undergraduate in Biochemistry and Exobiology. Top of your class at the University of Mississippi. Surgeon. Physician. Pioneered breakthrough techniques in neural grafting. A specialist in anatomical and forensic pathology and virology."

McCoy just gave him a gimlet eye. "Yeah. Well, that was last year. Whaddaya want?"

"I have come to make you a counter offer."

"Counter offer?"

"Starfleet has been actively recruiting you, promising you a new life and an off-planet posting, yes?"

"Huh."

"I think your unique skills will be wasted during your upcoming training. Three more years of school to learn Starship protocol."

Leonard's grimaced and looked at the bottom of his glass. "Not like I have much of a choice. She took the whole damn planet in the divorce. But," He looked up, "you probably knew that."

"Yes. A most unfortunate chain of events. One that I propose to remedy."

"Oh?" Leonard's eyebrow rose in challenge. "How so?"

"Starfleet cannot promise you a planetside posting. With your skillset, the probability you would be assigned to a fleet starship performing deep space exploration is 88.7 percent. An unpleasant prospect for one who suffers from aviaphobia."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"If you come to work for me, I can promise that your work would be planet-based and within your area of interest. There would be only brief jaunts of space travel involved."

"What's the catch? I know it was a production and a half, finding me and doing all that research. Sounds too good to be true." Leonard smirked, shaking his head. "I might be a drunken bum, but I'm no fool. At least, not about that."

"I will admit to an amoral worldview and passing disdain for Federation law and politics, but in the end it is all a matter of business."

Leonard laughed into his empty glass. "Oh hell and damn. That is some funny shit. An amoral Vulcan mobster propositioning me in a bar. You're something else."

"I also admit that I see the potential for humor in this tableau."

Leonard was still shaking his head, laughing, but he turned into the stranger for the first time, getting a good look. "What's your name, kid?"

"You may call me Spock."

"Well, Spock. I'm sure you knew you needed to do better than that to rope me in. You know as well as I that I could finagle something with Starfleet so's to stay dirtside and suckin' real air." He did the other shot. "You must have something up that sleeve. Pony it up."

"I do, indeed, have something Starfleet cannot provide you with."

Leonard looked skeptical. "What's that?"

"How would you like full custody of Joanna?"

McCoy's expletive filled the room in a most satisfactory way.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Captain Pike was looking worried. There was only ten more minutes till lift off, and he'd yet to see Leonard McCoy.

He knew he had the man by the short and curlies, it was in the bag. He just hoped he wasn't so shitfaced that he missed the flight. He'd have to request another shuttle quickly, which would mean a favor cashed in, smooth some ruffled feathers.

He'd missed out on Kirk, but he had high hopes for the renowned surgeon, even as a fixer upper. The man hadn't always been an alcoholic misanthrope.

But the time was ticking down, and there was no sign of-

Wait.

Even knowing that Kirk was a lost cause, he felt a flutter of anticipation when he saw the dust foaming on the horizon enlarge into an approaching motorcycle. Kirk.

Kirk's bike.

Well fuck a duck.

His grin fell, however, when the bike got closer and he could see the man on the back. Bigger. Burly. Neatly trimmed beard.

The guy hopped off and jogged to the loading ramp, heading straight for Chris.

"Captain Pike?"

"Yes?"

"Message for you." He held out a small piece of folded cardstock, waiting expectantly.

Chris took the message, dreading the contents, and slid his thumbnail under the stickered seal. He opened it gingerly, as if it would bite.

He wasn't far wrong.

"Fuck!"

It made a nearby cadet startle before they scrambled away from his wrath.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Captain Pike,_

_I regret to inform you that Dr. Leonard H. McCoy will not be joining you at this time. I do, however, wish you luck in all your future endeavors._

_With fond memory and best regards,_

_Spock_


End file.
